You've Got To Be Kidding Me
by theatre-gypsy
Summary: Vivian simply wanted to live under the radar until she turned 18. But Maroni wasn't having that. Now, with two villians after her for God knows what reason, can she reach her birthday alive and with her sanity intact? *Discontinued*
1. Sunshine and Storm Clouds

**Summary: Vivian Alexis McCoy has the same sob story as many other girls in Gotham. She lives alone, with just one month until she turns 18. Being a minor and afraid of being caught, she has no friends and no family. But when Vivian accidently gets in with the mob, can she survive to see her birthday with her sanity intact? Not a JokerxOC. Or a ScarecrowxOC. Or a Bruce/BatmanxOC.**

**A/N: Hey there! Yeah, so this is my first fanfic EVER. So kindly review. Tell me you love it or hate it, leave some constructive criticism, but no flames please. It would just crush my little soul. If you review, I'll bake you brownies!! ={D**

**Btdubbs: I don't own anything except my OCs and this plotline.**

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"_There is a house in New Orleans / They call the Rising Sun / And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy / And God I know I'm one_

_My mother was a tailor / She sewed my new blue jeans / My father was a gamblin' man / Down in New Orleans_

_Now the only thing a gambler needs / Is a suitcase and trunk / And the only time he's satisfied / Is when he's on a drunk_

_Oh mother tell your children / Not to do what I have done / Spend your lives in sin and misery / In the House of the Rising Sun_

_Well, I got one foot on the platform / The other foot on the train / I'm goin' back to New Orleans / To wear that ball and chain_

_Well, there is a house in New Orleans / They call the Rising Sun / And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy / And God I know I'm one"_

~_House of the Rising Sun_, The Animals

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**Chapter 1: Sunshine and Storm Clouds**

**OoOoOoO+OoOoOoO**

_There was only darkness. Pure black, stretching in each and every direction. It enclosed me, entering through my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. It washed out every emotion except dread and pure terror. Nowhere inside me could I find an inkling of hope. Nowhere around me could I find a whisper of light._

_Only darkness._

_Darkness that made my body icy and bitter. An evil darkness. The blackness was tangible; reaching out with wicked, vile fingers to slowly rip and tear the life out of me._

_The silky ebony shifted around me, but still no hope, no happiness was instilled in me. Only trepidation filled my fearful form._

_Opening my mouth to scream, I choked. The blackness was like a viscous liquid, pouring into my throat and coating my insides with its hellish goo._

_I was horror-struck; completely frozen._

_As the tips of its malicious digits closed the distance between my shivering body and the invisible figure, I snapped out of my trance and tried to get up._

_I rose up onto my shaking legs and staggered one step forward before falling to my knees, convulsing from exhaustion and cold._

_I felt that damned darkness approach me from behind. Its claws once again found me, eager to cleave into my soul and leave gashes and cracks._

_I fell back, letting the blackness overcome me... _

Vivian awoke from her dream with a jolt.

Glad to be away from the weirdness, she turned onto her back with eyes still closed, sinking into the sheets of her bed. The rickety bed was the only warm and comfortable place in her apartment, and Vivian was dreading leaving it. She smiled slightly as the early March sunlight warmed her skin.

_Whoa! Back up a second! Sunlight? On my face?_

The 17 year old was usually up and on her way to work before the sun rose…

Oh snap.

She suddenly noticed more things missing. Her alarm clock should be blaring _House of the Rising Sun_, as it does every morning. The smell of a freshly baked cake should still be lingering in her ramshackle apartment.

First confusion, then panic overtook the girl's system.

Bolting upright, she wrenched her eyes open.

No. No, no, no, _no, no, no, NO!_

Vivian's sparsely furnished apartment was now mostly empty. It had seemed that her friendly neighborhood burglars had kindly removed the burden of having a T.V., blender, alarm clock, and microwave.

She moaned.

_I should have known better. This is _Gotham_. Of _course_ I was going to eventually be robbed._

Mumbling swears under her breath, Vivian shuffled to the other side of the chilly room, observing it on her way. The cracked white paint on her walls was peeling in some places. Spots of nasty were scattered across the wall that used to hold her T.V. The wooden floorboards creaked ominously under her 120 pounds, threatening to cave in at any moment. She sighed. The objects the raiders took had been strategically placed to cover up the grossest stains, and now they were visible. Looking at them, she gagged.

_Probably blood..._

Vivian screwed up her face in disgust and turned away to continue her venture.

She shivered, wishing the landlord wasn't so cheap. He had shut off the heater at the end of February, saying that spring was on its way.

This was complete bull, of course. Winter usually lingered until late March in Gotham.

_Well, it's what keeps the rent so low._

Shaking her head, she checked if the invaders had found her purse. Looking under the loose floorboard she placed it under every night, Vivian saw that they hadn't. Happily, she took out the black canvas bag with the words 'The Beatles' written in white, and pulled out her precious iPod.

The brownish-green eyed girl put the headphones on and blasted _House of the Rising Sun_, finally getting her daily dose of one of the classics.

The guitar and rough voice of the singer washed Vivian's soul clean of the fact that she would probably be bored out of her mind and eating cold food for the next couple of months.

Laughing, the teen wondered who would want to steal cheap household appliances.

She snorted. Probably someone who had been robbed themselves.

Vivian shoved the iPod in the pocket of her pajamas so she could use both of her hands to open up the mini-fridge the burglars had so lovingly left.

She gasped at what she saw, for it was much, much worse than she had imagined. All her food items were still there, except one

Turning off her iPod and setting it aside, Vivian Alexis McCoy sat cross-legged on the floor and let out a dry sob.

The cake.

The cake she had slaved over, making sure it was perfect. She had even "permanently borrowed" the most expensive chocolate frosting in the store. It was gone. She had baked it as a congratulations gift for herself on getting a raise at work, and it was gone.

Vivian viciously hoped those crooks fell off a cliff and into an ocean.

Preferably an ocean of very angry rodents.

Slowly and morbidly, she got to her feet and dressed in her favorite outfit. A grey long-sleeved shirt with a burgundy fleur-de-lis on the front, a pair of nearly black skinny jeans, purple high-tops, and as the finishing touch, a black and purple plaid hat that covered the top half of her ears.

_Hmph. Purple. I wonder if I'll get nasty looks again…_

The rest of Gotham had shunned purple. Ever since the Joker nearly burned the city to the ground, it was like the color had disappeared, even though the guy was locked up in Arkham at the moment. But Vivian just couldn't let the color go; she loved it too much. Half her clothes had some shade of purple in them. The rest were mostly blue and green. She looked good in those colors.

The girl with the dirty-blond hair stopped at the door. She mentally checked to see if she had the necessities. Her headphones attached to her iPod, her wallet, keys, her hardcover copy of _Duma Key_, her copy of _Watchmen_, and most importantly, the switchblade in her right pocket. Vivian reached into her pocket and grasped it. She had only used it once, and now it stayed on her at all times.

Vivian walked out into the hallway of the fourteenth floor in a sketchy building on the outskirts of the Narrows. Taking the stairs, she descended to the lobby and made her way towards the door.

But the slim, angular body of her landlord stepped into her path, making Vivian come to a screeching halt. Her eyes darted to the floor and she mentally cringed. She was screwed now.

"Good morning, Ms. McCoy."

The man was well-dressed in an expensive suit; his shiny shoes reflecting the image of the girl in question biting her bottom lip. He had a Rolex on, and his cuff links looked pretty damn pricey. He immediately looked out of place in the Narrows.

Then again, considering his history… maybe not.

Gathering her courage, Vivian faced the man with her best happy face. He looked back at her with his graying hair framing his visage.

"Mornin' Mr. Maroni," The happy-go-lucky look on her face dampened a little when she saw a glint of something in the semi-retired mob boss's eyes. She couldn't put her finger on the emotion, but Vivian's instincts told her to stay away from this man. He was scheming. "What can I do for ya?" She kept the smile on her face to disguise her blatant distrust.

The strange gleam his eyes was immediately replaced by amusement at her words. Seeing this, Vivian's smile vanished completely. This was going to be bad.

"Well," Maroni paused, catching Vivian's brilliant eyes in his own stoney blue ones, "I happened to see several young men hurrying out of the building holding some household appliances. This led me to believe that someone in this building was robbed, but I have yet to see any of Gotham's finest push their way through my lovely doors. You don't happen to know why that is, do you?" A smile was playing on his lips, and she could tell that he was holding in his laughter.

Vivian's usually bright eyes suddenly turned angry. He knew what had happened, and was now teasing her.

Salvatore Maroni was one of the select few who knew she was a minor. Vivian had never actually told him, but the man knew everything about his tenants, just in case he ever needed to "persuade" someone.

But he had special interest in Vivian Alexis McCoy. She was mature for a girl her age and had no family, which made her a prime candidate for the job slot he needed to fill. Not to mention she was quite pretty.

Salvatore smiled knowingly at the young woman glaring at him. Something was going down tonight. Something big. And she was going to be a part of it.

Maroni chuckled, causing Vivian's cold eyes to flame in anger. She was breathing deeply, and her nails dug into her thighs. She was trying _really_ hard not to punch the man standing before her in his smug looking face.

"Is there anything else Mr. Maroni? Cause I'm really late for work," Vivian spoke through clenched teeth.

Salvatore smirked at her, "No, just thought I'd ask."

There it was again, that glint of unnamable emotion. Vivian looked hard into Maroni's eyes, trying to grasp onto what he was thinking.

Staring back, Salvatore had to admit that this girl had balls. Locking eyes with a known affiliate of the mob… it was bold. He wondered if she was this daring under pressure. Lucky for him, he wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

After a couple of minutes, Vivian was getting tired of trying to read him. He really did put up a good façade, and she wasn't going to be breaking through it anytime soon. But she sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to break eye contact first. That would make him think she was weak, and she didn't want one of the most powerful men in Gotham's underworld to see that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that a small crowd had gathered. Vivian couldn't blame them. A staring match between a mob boss and a teenager probably looked very suspicious. Taking a deep breath, Vivian turned sharply on her heels, deciding to leave before someone did something stupid.

The people who had stopped to watch the spectacle immediately sprang back to life. Most of them left quickly, not wanting to be involved with what was happening, but three nice looking folks stayed by the doors to make sure that nothing more became of the situation.

Those people were of a rare variety. They were part of a small percentage of people who actually _cared_. Not only for their families, but for complete strangers. This small percentage was what kept Gotham from drowning in its own blood and misery. These special, glowing, _beautiful_ people were Gotham's lifejacket.

Seeing this, Vivian smiled sweetly at them, hoping her eyes conveyed just how thankful she was. They all smiled back, and one even held the door open for her. Before she stepped out of the building, Vivian heard Maroni call after her.

"Keep on your toes, hon. You'd be surprised at how quickly everything can just… blow up in your face…" She slammed the door, hoping he'd get the message.

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Salvatore laughed at Vivian's obvious display of anger, causing the three people at the doors to glare daggers at him. Smiling sweetly, he turned and made his way towards his makeshift office in the back of the building.

Plopping down in his faded leather chair, he glanced at Vivian's belongings in the corner; among them, her alarm clock. Maroni laughed. He was sure she would get fired for being so late to work.

And those who were unemployed were always so desperate, willing to do anything if it meant a paycheck. Nobody wanted to be out on the streets. Especially in the Narrows.

Vivian Alexis McCoy was no exception to this rule.

Leaning back in his chair, Salvatore closed his eyes and went over the plans for the coming evening numerous times before nearly falling asleep. Shaking his head, he looked at his newly acquired clock and saw that he had time for a nap. He had been up all last night making sure the idiots he had hired to break into Vivian's apartment weren't caught.

He was going to need to be as alert as possible tonight, because all hell was about to break lose in a fiery explosion.

"_Literally,"_ he thought, before falling into a slumber

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Outside, Vivian stepped into the late morning sunlight and lifted her face to the sky. Closing her eyes, she started to block out the city noises that surrounded her. The cars, the hushed voices, the dogs, the yelling; slowly, one by one, they disappeared. Vivian's ears were blessed with silence, and she lost herself inside her mind. She began to think of the things that made her happy. The ocean, music, painting, chocolate, children's laughter, pretty dresses, singing, acting, the warmth of the sun, wet sand between her toes; flashes of wonderful and gorgeous images filled her head, blocking out everything bad. This was Vivian's happy place. No one could touch her here. No one could reach her when she was there, locked up in her mind. Vivian figured everyone in Gotham had a happy place. Without one, things just seemed so much more _depressing_.

She slowly lowered her head and opened her eyes. All the noises came back, and Vivian was suddenly aware of all the people glancing at her like she belonged in an asylum. She suddenly locked eyes with a particularly mean-looking overweight man and gave him a huge, ear-to-ear smile, trying to give him some of her happiness.

The man was instantly filled with fear. He looked at Vivian like she was holding a bomb and foaming at the mouth, and quickly turned and jogged in the other direction.

Vivian was taken aback at the guy's reaction. What did she do, other than try to spread some cheer? She wondered if people were as afraid of smiles as they were of purple.

Maybe it was the combination of both.

She pouted. Why should people be frightened of grins? They were supposed to make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside; they weren't menacing.

Unless one was carved into your face.

Vivian rolled her eyes. People could be so stupid. Smiling wasn't a sign that you were murderous. Actually, it meant quite the opposite.

Laughing at nothing in particular, Vivian fell into step behind a woman holding an infant girl. Looking into the eyes of the small child, she saw innocence and curiosity. The baby looked back at Vivian and tilted her head. Giggling, Vivian started making funny faces, and to her extreme delight, the baby let out loud peals of laughter.

Vivian's heart soared. Yup, she was in her happy place. She felt joyful and fearless as she continued down the street, the smile never leaving her lips. She felt fortunate just to be alive. She felt like she could see the goodness in everyone she passed.

Too bad Vivian _couldn't_ see the metaphorical storm clouds that had begun to gather over her head.


	2. Flying Monkeys and Flaming Gerbils

**A/N: Woo! Chapter 2! Though it's hardly a chapter. I'd call it more of a filler; just something to get you from Point A to Point B. Next chapter will be more exciting, I promise!**

**And thanks to my solitary reviewer, Jack Ishi. You get my entire batch of brownies since no one else reviewed, which makes me a sad panda. Reviews really do make me write both faster and better. Please? ={D**

**Btdubbs: I don't own anything except this plotline and my OCs.**

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_You say you're down you can't lose that frown / Life sucks. What else is new? That's tough / There's not much you can do- you're not the only one not havin' any fun._

_I've got a funny feelin' we're all born to lose / And I've got a funny feelin' that this life ain't worth livin' through / I've been depressed and I get so stressed_

_Life sucks. I don't wonder why. That's tough / I just keep on tryin', so I won't be the one not havin' any fun._

_I'm not givin' up yet that's not the end of me / But it's not gonna be all right you'll see, you'll see!_

_I've got a funny feelin' we're all born to lose / And I've got a funny feelin' that this life ain't worth livin' through._

_I've got a funny feelin' we're all born to lose / And I've got a funny feelin' that this life ain't worth livin' through._

_Cheer Up!_

_Cheer Up!_, Reel Big Fish

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**Chapter 2: Flying Monkeys and Flaming Gerbils**

**OoOoOoO+OoOoOoO**

As Vivian drew closer to her destination, she came back down from her high and let her mind wander. She strolled down the street, feeling angry that she couldn't call the GPD.

_Just one more month._

Vivian clenched her hands in anger and desperation.

_One more month and I can start over as a legal adult._

Being 17 was really becoming a bitch for Vivian. Ever since her father "left", she's been taking care of herself.

On the day her dumbass dad "left" her, Vivian packed up and left too, leaving the very few who knew the dysfunctional family thinking they had left together. No one ever reported her missing. She never reported her father missing, either.

Vivian never called the police, and with the little money she had, rented an apartment. It was crappy, she had to admit, but it put some distance between her and the criminals that crawled out of their hiding places at night.

She knew that hundreds of other girls in Gotham had the same sob story, but she was different. She had never been caught. Having no other family that she knew of, Vivian would have been sent to a group home if found.

And she would rather live on the streets than in a group home. The stories one hears about those places…

_No. __Never._

Sighing, she figured not going to school and having almost no friends was better than getting caught.

She would wait it out just one more month, then get an ID, enroll in night school, and everything would be chipper and dandy.

_Pfft. Yeah, right. I'm lying to myself._

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Vivian walked up to the dirty, dented chrome doors that were attached to the diner she was a waitress at.

Vivian was late. Very late. _Ridiculously_ late. And if there was one thing her boss hated more than a bitchy customer, it was tardiness.

She had probably set a record, being three hours late.

Vivian wondered why she even bothered showing up_._ She was about to get her ass fired anyway.

She groaned. She just HAD to be polite and show up. Cause if she didn't she probably would have gone on a guilt trip. Oh well.

Pushing her way through the doors, the bell announced Vivian's doomed arrival with an innocent _tinkle, tinkle_.

Vivian winced. So much for coming in unnoticed.

When the doors slammed closed, the bell _tinkled_ again with a malicious finality. Stupid bell.

At first Vivian just stood there, eyes glued to the floor.

She knew what she would see if she looked up.

Anthony.

Anthony was Vivian's senile boss and the owner of the fine establishment she was currently standing in. He had a _very_ short temper, so Vivian tried to avoid the man as much as possible. Short tempers and sharp tongues usually don't mix well.

Still too nervous to look up, Vivian tried to imagine what Anthony would look like. He would be angry, no, _livid_. His face would be tomato red with the vein at his temple throbbing and purple. His eyes would be shooting fiery arrows of pain at her while they popped out of their sockets. The cheap cigar the Italian man always had in his mouth would be crushed between his teeth as he yelled. He would then call his evil flying monkeys down from the darkened sky to catapult flaming rabid gerbils of death at Vivian's poor innocent and battered body. Wait…. what?

Vivian felt a smile tugging at her lips. She really did love her imagination. It was her best friend; always trying to cheer her up when things got bad.

_I wonder..._

Would Anthony actually look like bizarre image that Vivian's inner voice was laughing hysterically at?

She nearly giggled out loud when she pictured him exploding.

Gathering courage from her inner laugher, Vivian finally looked up at the metaphorical Mount Vesuvius.

_Holy sweet pink elephants..._

She was right on the money.


	3. Velvet Curtains and Pretty Sunsets

**A/N: I'm back! Yay! I'm so sorry about the delay. My "real life" snuck up behind me and gave me a swift kick in the ass. Not fun. BUT, I had a nasty case of writer's block. It's gone now. And more good news! I'm getting a laptop! And it's shiny! *giggle* And I changed my pen name. Don't ask. Long story.**

**Warning: It's going to get a little vulgar language wise. No offense.**

**BTDUBBS: I don't own the Batverse. Or **_**Chicago**_**. Or **_**Elf**_**. Or Blink-182. Only this plotline and my OCs. **

***sniffle* I made myself sad. D=**

**Review please!!**

**(This one's for Christina. Thanks for beating the writer's block out of me! Much love!)**

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_Come here, please hold my hand for now / Help me, I'm scared. Please show me how to fight this / God has a master plan /  
And I guess I am in his demand._

_Please save me / This time I cannot run / And I'll see you when this is done / And now I have come to realize /  
That you are the one who's left behind._

_Please stay until I'm gone / I'm here hold on to me I'm right here /  
Waiting._

_I see, a light it feels good / And I'll come back soon just like you would / It's useless, my name has made the list /  
And I wish, I gave you one last kiss._

_Please stay until I'm gone / I'm here hold on to me I'm right here/ Waiting /  
And take my one last breath / And don't forget /  
That I will be right here /  
Waiting.  
[x3]_

_-Not Now,_ Blink-182

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**Chapter 3: Velvet Curtains and Pretty Sunsets**

**OoOoOoO+OoOoOoO**

Vivian shook with silent laughter as Anthony pointed at the back room; his eyes clearly saying _"Shut the hell up and get your ass in that room so I can yell at you."_

Without saying a word, she immediately did as she was told, taking confident steps through the restaurant.

Then the seriousness of the situation hit Vivian mid- stride, and she stumbled as the realization hit her with all of the subtlety of a fire truck plowing through a four-way intersection during rush hour.

Her laughter died down and was replaced with dread. She was about to lose her job. Her only source of income. The only thing that kept her off the streets.

In short, Vivian was royally screwed.

While she panicked, the more rational side of Vivian's mind was quietly perusing through jobs that didn't require any kind of schooling

_Beggar, cashier, waitress, stripper, prostitute..._

She blinked.

Did she just say…

Vivian gave herself a mental kick in the ass. What was she thinking? Prostitution = Bad.

Obviously, Vivian wasn't too keen on becoming a whore. She took pride in the fact that she still had her innocence, while most girls her age had given it up long ago for money or false love. Vivian shivered at the thought of having some random sweaty dude on top of her. Ick.

And getting a STD wasn't exactly on her list of things to do before she died, either.

Vivian slipped into the back room, looking at it for what was probably the last time. It was stark white, and the walls were lined with shelves containing boxes of food. Nothing special.

Except for that dent in the back wall.

The thought of the events that led up to that dent made Vivian snicker. The other workers told Anthony that she caused it, when in reality she never even got close to the wall that day. Technically, it was the work of some jumpy bleach blonde bimbo. Who knew someone could be so afraid of pirates? At least the sword was plastic…

Smirking, Vivian rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet and pondered what she should say. Not that it would matter. Judging by the look on Anthony's face, she would be lucky if she left the diner without a bruise.

The unexpected notion made Vivian see flashes of memories and filled her with disgust. She did _not_ like people who beat other people for no good reason. Especially defenseless people. But Vivian wasn't defenseless. She was defenseless long ago, but not anymore. If that man laid a single finger on her…

As if on cue, Anthony, aka Vesuvius, burst through the door with the force of the aforementioned fire truck, and Vivian braced herself for the lava that was about to erupt.

"Where were you?" The question was asked in a deathly quiet tone.

Anthony's voice was shaking and it sounded… well, it sounded like the man belonged in Arkham.

What a creeper.

"I'm sorry," Vivian spoke slowly and softly, trying not to upset him even more, "Someone broke into my apartment, and stole my alarm clo--"

But Anthony cut her off with a resounding, "_BULLSHIT!!_"

Vivian was shocked into silence. How dare this man call her a liar? He weaseled his way out of health inspections and had connections with some low level mobsters, and _he_ was questioning _her_ honor?

He was a creeper _and_ a jackass.

The conversation that followed was centered on Vivian's integrity, and grew increasingly and alarmingly loud, with words such as "fatty" and "dumbass" and "bitch" flying around.

Eventually, Anthony simply interrupted Vivian with: "That's it! You're fired! OUT!"

Vivian flipped him off and punched through the door and into the restaurant, ignoring the stares from the people. She was absolutely infuriated; her mind was screaming obscenities. What did he know? She was probably one of the most honest people in Gotham. And where did he get off calling her a bitch?

Vivian drew herself up to her full height and proudly strutted out the doors and onto the sidewalk, positively _oozing_ confidence.

Then she turned right back around to sit against the side of the building, utterly defeated and depleted.

Vivian's shoulders slumped and she put her head in her hands.

She was shaking.

Not knowing what else to do, Vivian tried unsuccessfully to slip into her happy place, while hot tears streaked down her face.

_Tears?_

Why was she crying? She hadn't cried since the Incident. Vivian usually had such a cheery disposition. Why was she so depressed now?

If she could just let her imagination take over, she'd be fine. But her imagination wasn't cooperating at the moment. It kept throwing images of a half-naked and dead Vivian around.

_Fuck this. I'm tired. Sleepy time!_

And, without anything better to do, Vivian's mind shut down and she slipped into unconscious, hoping that with some sleep she'd be able to think clearly.

Vivian's dreams were mostly just flashes of color. A face; a name; music halls; beautiful blue eyes.

A stage.

That image stuck; fought its way to the front of her mind. A beautiful theatre, with red velvet curtains. To most, it was just a theatre.

To Vivian, it was heaven.

Before the… _incident_… with her father, Vivian would perform in plays and musicals at Gotham Community Theatre. She loved to lose herself in the music and script, loved to shed her skin and become someone else, even is it was only for a few hours. The theatre was her hideaway, her home.

Then the Incident happened, and Vivian stopped going to rehearsals and auditions. Very rarely did she ever go to see a show. She distanced herself from the friends she made there.

That hurt Vivian the most, leaving her only friends behind. The people at the theatre were the only ones she ever cared about. In the beginning, she was quiet and shy. But as Vivian grew more comfortable with those around her, there was a shift in her personality. She became fiercely protective of her friends; always played the role of Mother Hen.

But she had to leave.

It had to be done.

It would be better that way.

She didn't want her friends to hurt for her.

In the months that followed her disappearance, that was Vivian's mantra. Whenever she regretted her decision to leave, she would repeat it over and over again, convincing herself that they were better off without her. She would just bring them pain.

As a way of proving this to herself, Vivian would often peek in on the Group. She saw them as they always were. Happy. Smiling.

The ache of loss eventually ebbed and life went on for Vivian; she grew accustomed to living alone.

She never gave up her singing, though. Vivian still loved music with a passion, and would often break out into song for no apparent reason.

Vivian was happily reliving a memory of her, Lex, Anna, Pape, Casey, and Haley performing a rendition of _Cell Block Tango_, when everything started to shake. Her soul ripped apart at the terrified screams of her friends… her family.

The dream shattered.

When Vivian's eyes finally fluttered open, it was due to the fact that someone was gently shaking her. As a reflex, Vivian yanked the knife out of her pocket and flicked it open as she lunged to her feet.

The man who had woken Vivian held his hands up, "Whoa. Sorry to scare you. But I was worried. You look like you've been crying," Vivian's hand went to wipe her face as the man looked on with a gentle smile. Vivian peered carefully at the man. His moustache twitched as his lips turned upwards, and his eyes were kind.

Yup. She could trust him. Her gut said he was chill. Vivian always listened to her gut. Her instincts kept her alive.

Vivian put the knife away and reached for the man's now out-stretched hand, "I'm Vivian McCoy."

"Jim Gordon," Vivian's mouth formed an "o".

A cop. No, not just a cop. The _commissioner_. In uniform. On duty.

_An on duty commissioner in uniform who now knows my name. _

Vivian felt the urge to facepalm. So much for flying under the radar. Plus, she had given her full name to a stranger. A stranger she had learned to be the Commissioner.

_Real smart, Viv. Real smart._

Her shock only lasted a second before Vivian regained her composure, "Well, thank you for waking me Mr. Gordon."

"Please, call me Jim. And you're welcome. I wouldn't want something happening to you. It _is_ my job to prevent that sort of thing," he smiled, and the warmth that radiated from it made Vivian grin in response. Finally! Someone that smiled! "Now, I don't mean to pry, but I found you sleeping on the ground near the Narrows, crying, and mumbling something about 'washing the blood off your hands' and about how 'they had it coming'. May I ask how you came to be here?"

Much to Commissioner Gordon's surprise, Vivian burst out laughing, "Sorry… Commiss- Jim," She finally calmed down enough to speak and explained between giggles, "I was dreaming about when I performed _Cell Block Tango_ with some friends. I was Velma Kelly. That explains my mumblings," She smiled fondly at the memory and unconsciously tapped her heel in time with the song. It was a habit.

Jim smiled briefly before putting on a more serious expression, "And the crying?"

Her smile disappeared.

_Shit._

Vivian had really wanted to avoid this.

And while there were numerous efficient ways of distracting the kind officer, such as crying, "Look out! VELOCIRAPTORS!!" and then running away quickly, Vivian was quite tired and just decided to use the simplest means of distracting people.

She changed the subject.

"How did you find me?" she blurted.

Jim raised his eyebrows, but answered her question, "I was passing by and saw a body. So I pulled over and came to see _why_ there was a body in front of a diner. That's usually not a good thing," Vivian let out a chuckle, pleased that her half-assed attempt to change the subject had worked, "But you're avoiding my question."

Her right eye twitched.

_Stupid cops with their stupid ability to interrogate._

Vivian knew that this man wouldn't drop the subject. He knew that something was wrong and his stare was fatherly, meaning he wouldn't stop badgering her until she gave him answers. Rubbing her face, and nearly knocking off her glasses in the process, Vivian decided not to lie.

Cause she'd guilt trip later.

Meh.

"I-was-fired-and-I'm-probably-gonna-end-up-on-the-streets-if-I-don't-get-a-new-job-in-the-next-month," Vivian rushed the sentence, hoping he wouldn't understand her.

He did.

Jim looked at her in sympathy, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah…" Vivian smartly responded, and looked down so he wouldn't see the look of sadness on her face.

The two figures stood there in a contemplative silence.

Jim, always the loving type, was wondering what he could do to help this girl.

Vivian, on the other hand, was trying to figure out what the hell she was going to say.

And, being an actress, she gave up thinking and decided to do what she always did when someone veered away from the script.

Improvise.

Taking another deep breath, Vivian brought her head up to look at Jim's face, and fought the sudden, stupid urge to leap into his arms, crying, and beg him to take her home with him, "Anywho, I'm sure I'll be fine. It's not that hard to find a new job."

_When you're not trying to hide from the police._

Jim smiled, "Feeling optimistic?"

"Always."

_Except when I've just lost my job and am face to face with the one person who could, completely by accident, make my last month of minority a living hell._

Jim then put on the his I'm A Tough Cop, But I'm Still A Nice Guy Face™ "Well… I need to get going. Busy job and all."

"Of course."

"Are you sure you don't need anything else?"

_A hug and a sandwich would be nice._

"Nope, I'm good."

"Alrighty then. I'll be seeing you around," Jim shook Vivian's hand again.

"I'm looking forward to it."

_Hopefully when you're _not _on duty._

"Bye," Jim waved, and walked back to his car. With once last glance at Vivian, he started up the cruiser and pulled away.

Vivian let out a sigh and regretted not asking him for a hug and a sandwich.

Or at least some Ben and Jerry's.

She groaned and fell back to the ground in a heap. What was she going to do with the rest of her day? It was relatively warm, and she had a couple of hours before it got dark.

Acting on a whim, Vivian hoisted herself to her feet and started off towards the park. It was sketchy, but had cleaned up a little since Batman had shown up and stared beating the bejeezus out of criminals. Now, she found it a nice place to sit and relax.

Normally, Vivian would have shoved her nose in one of her books. But that required some brain function, which she had none of at the moment.

So, unable to do anything else, Vivian plugged up her iPod and put herself on auto-pilot, trying to sort out the cluster that was her thoughts.

Vivian reclined on the bench for an hour or two, just listening to Blink-182, thinking of everything and nothing, Batman and the Joker, the light and the dark, her shoes and her hair.

As she was basking in the musical glory that was _Not Now_, Vivian stood, stretching her stiff muscles, and caught a bright ray of red right in the eye.

"Son of a **nutcracker**!" Vivian's hand clamped over her closed eye as she turned towards the area where the light came from, expecting some random kid with one of those cool laser pointers.

It was just the sunset. Duh.

Blinking away the slight pain, Vivian watched the sun go down between two trees. She had always admired natural beauty; it was glorious _and_ free.

The dying light cast colors onto the scattered clouds. Deep, rich colors that would make any artist green with envy. Reds, oranges, pinks; it was absolutely beaut-- Wait? The dying light?

The dying light.

The sunset.

The… _sunset_.

Vivian's mind came to a grinding halt, before her thought process went into overdrive and slapped her in the face for her stupidity.

It would be dark soon.

And she had to walk through the Narrows.

Walk through the Narrows… in the dark.

_Epic fail._


	4. Streetlights and Murphy's Law

**A/N: Hey there! I'm back, and chapters should be going up more regularly. I have a plot in my head and a new laptop!**

**Huzzah! *happy dance***

**But ye be warned, school's been a real bitch lately, so chapters will still be a bit slow, but faster than before. **

**And the plot bunnies have attacked. I have another story that I'm working on, but it won't be up for a long while. The characters are complicated, so the writing and ideas come slowly.**

**Anywhozzles, this chapter is a bit short, but the next one might be long. 'Might be' is the key phrase there. Some of my chapters will be long and some will be short; that's just how I roll.**

**Enjoy and please review!**

**BTDUBBS: I don't own anything expect this plotline and my OCs. If I did own it, I'd have all the villains tied up in my closet, and would take them out at night so we could cause havoc. *sigh***

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_Murphy's Law: Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

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**Chapter 4: Streetlights and Murphy's Law**

**OoOoOoO+OoOoOoO**

The pool of golden light cast from the lone working streetlight glowed pleasantly at Vivian. It called out to her like the light at the end of the tunnel, promising safety and warmth from the cold, dark streets that surrounded her. If only she could reach it, she'd be safe.

Lies, of course. But the thought still made Vivian feel better.

She strode quietly down the abandoned street, making a beeline right for the harsh halo of light.

Then, the evil entity known as Murphy decided to rear his ugly head:

The streetlight flickered.

_Oh._

It flickered again.

_Oh, no._

It started flickering sporadically.

_Oh, fuck me gently with a rake, _no_._

Suppressing the urge to run towards the failing light, for it would gather attention, Vivian could only watch as the bulb flickered twice more before completely dying out with a soft _pop_.

And, as if they had been waiting for that light to go out, a group of four shadowy figures chose that exact moment to bleed out of the mouth of an alley near Vivian, their outlines blurred by the darkness and the faint glow of the lights in the surrounding buildings.

Instinctively, she pulled the brim of her hat down over her face and glued her eyes to the littered cement as she neared them, so they couldn't see her face, and she wouldn't see theirs.

Vivian's heart hammered against her ribcage as she moved onwards, never breaking her stride. Her ears, going against her mind's wishes, picked up on some of their whisperings.

They were speaking in Italian.

Vivian didn't know too much Italian, but she had picked up a few words while living in a very Italian section of the Narrows.

Vivian was able to decipher two words.

Two simple words that rang with a sense of foreboding and a promise of destruction.

Two words: "fuoco" and "Maroni"

So…

Fire and Maroni?

Well, _that_ sounded bad.

Vivian's senses seemed to sharpen as the danger fully registered in her brain, and she quietly cracked her knuckles. Time seemed to slow down as she neared the group, and her eyes darted in every direction, picking out good hiding spots and get-away routes.

Vivian peeked from beneath her eyelashes. They were looking-- no, _glaring_-- at her face and her feet. Her face, she could understand. But her _feet_?

Regardless of what they were staring at, Vivian straightened her posture and hardened her features as her hand inconspicuously clenched around her switchblade. If it came to a fight, she was sure to lose. Four against one weren't very good odds, especially when the members of the group of four were much larger than the party of one. But she wouldn't go down without a fight; it was against her nature to do so. Her flight response was a tad bit slow, never kicking in when it was supposed to. She was mostly fight, and her feet often propelled her _at_ the danger, instead of _away_ from it.

And if she was going down, then she sure as hell was going to take _someone_ down with her.

After what seemed like a _very_ long and tense moment, Vivian passed the men.

Their eyes were still on her back, but the grip on her blade relaxed a little, and she tried to relieve some stress by squeezing the strap that went from her left shoulder to the bag that rested on her right hip.

Keeping her ears sharp, Vivian took a deep breath and looked down at her shoes.

Her blatantly _purple_ shoes.

And her _purple_ and black hat.

Realization hit Vivian, and she let out a small, "OH!" of surprise, which robbed her of all the oxygen in her lungs.

_Damn it. I just _had_ to be all rebellious with the purple, didn't I? Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

Purple. People, especially thugs who work for Maroni and the mob, connected purple with the Joker.

_I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die in an alley because someone's going to think I'm associated with the Joker. I'm gonna die. Oh, holy __**crap**__, I'm going to __**die**__._

Vivian _really_ stared panicking when her vision started going fuzzy around the edges.

Why in the name of everything good and shiny was her vision starting to waver?

_Oh!_

Vivian was suddenly aware of her fast and heavy breathing. She was hyperventilating.

_Calm. Be calm. Damn you lungs! I command you to be calm! We are __**not**__ going to die._

Vivian took a left onto her street, leaving the small cluster of men behind, and let her shoulders slump. Her nameless building was only a few steps away; it wouldn't do any harm to let her guard down now.

Now, if Vivian had done the smart thing and had kept vigilant enough to notice the suspicious characters that lurked around her building, she might have figured out that something less-than-moral was taking place beyond the doors of 596, 57th Street.

And, if Vivian wasn't so tired, she would have taken note of the numerous black SUVs that were parked outside of her building.

Instead, she ignored these things, and looked into the reflective plaque inscribed plainly with _596_, wiping away some of her smeared mascara. Scowling at her windswept hair, Vivian took off her hat and threw up her locks into a messy bun, a few strands dangling out of place.

Vivian pushed through the doors with her bottom, putting her hat in her already heavy bag. Wanting nothing more than to sink into her bed and not wake up until noon the next day, she swiveled around quickly, intending on getting to her apartment without any interruptions.

But that jackass Murphy wasn't having that.

She bumped into a body. A _large_ body.

"Oh! Excuse me," Vivian said, startled.

She reached up to the stranger's chest to push herself away and felt… a bump.

A _gun_ shaped bump.

Vivian's hands shot to her sides and she finally took notice of the man in front of her. Her wild eyes quickly assessed his appearance: he was dressed in a nice suit that complimented his olive skin.

Vivian quickly put two and two together and her breath caught in her throat.

Eyes wide, Vivian leaned around the giant to look at the company behind him.

"Miss McCoy. How nice of you to join us."

Somewhere, Murphy was laughing like mad.


	5. Mobsters and Money

**A/N: I… I don't like this one. It's my first chapter with a lot of dialogue, which I kind of suck at. I'm better at description. So please, **_**please**_**, review or PM me with corrections or suggestions. Reviews make me squeal like a five year old girl faced with Hannah Montana (ICK!)**

**And I know this is a tad short, but the next chapter **_**should**_** be up this coming weekend.**

**And I have found that inspiration is a fickle bitch. My muse gives me inspiration for **_**sixteen pages**_** worth of material, but none of it was for this chapter. Meh.**

**Enough of this. Enjoy! And don't forget to review. =D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my OCs and the plotline.**

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**Chapter 5: Mobsters and Money**

**OoOoOoO+OoOoOoO**

_Fuck._

The front room of the building was absolutely _teeming_ with mob bosses and their muscle.

And Maroni simply stood there, smiling at Vivian.

Today just _really_ wasn't her day, was it?

Swallowing the anxiety that was bubbling up in her stomach, Vivian spoke, "Hey there, Mr. Maroni. How's it going?"

He ignored her question, "You look tired Vivian. Long day?"

Vivian's eyes narrowed at the use of her first name. Maroni _never_ used her first name. He was definitely up to no good.

"Yes," she answered, a cold façade replacing her scared one, "Very long."

"That's a shame. Is there anything I can do to help?" His tone was one of complete innocence, but that glint of emotion she had seen this morning was back in his eyes. Vivian was beginning to think that it was his I'm-About-To-Do-Something-Evil look.

"Not really," Vivian started forwards and went to move past Maroni, but his hand shot out to grip her shoulder, and she spun on her heel at the contact.

"What?" she shot at his face. Vivian didn't want to deal with this right now. She wasn't about to take his taunting.

Maroni's face held no more innocence, only mild amusement and fake seriousness. Vivian smirked at his bad acting skills, and was about to give him a snarky retort about it when he spoke, "I heard you were sacked."

"And just how the _hell_ did you figure that out?" The smirk was off her face. Was Maroni having someone follow her? She automatically glanced over her shoulder, feeling paranoid.

"Word travels fast in this town," He grinned at her shocked and confused expression.

Vivian tilted her head as she locked eyes with Maroni for the second time that day, trying to read him. She didn't know his intentions, but she knew that they were bad. She tried to piece it together in her head.

_Maroni plus mob plus muscle plus me._

The only thing that equation kept adding up to was _bad_. She tried again. Yup, _definitely_ bad. But she was curious. Eyes flickering to the hand that was still on her shoulder, Vivian cautiously asked, "What do you want?"

Maroni drew in a deep breath, "I need you to do me a favor."

Oh, _hell_ no. Vivian knew what kind of "favors" Maroni asked for, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

"No. Find someone else to do your _favors_ for you," She snarled, and yanked away her shoulder from his grasp.

"Vivian!" Maroni put on his mask of innocence again, "I'm shocked you would think of that. My intentions are honorable."

Quiet laughter rippled through the crowd and Vivian scoffed.

"You keep telling yourself that."

Salvatore twitched. This was taking too long. He needed to get this done quickly. And he was getting _very_ tired of her backtalk. Hiding his annoyance, Salvatore spoke again, "No, really. I just need you to deliver a package," He saw indecision and confusion pass over Vivian's face and, thinking quickly, added, "I'll even let you skip this month's rent."

That caught Vivian's attention. With the money saved to pay for this month's rent, she could probably feed herself for two. Vivian didn't want to, but she had to agree. Even if she had to ignore the creeping feeling in her heart that said that everything was about to go wrong.

"Where," She began, speaking slowly, "Would I be delivering this package?"

Maroni's face was somber, "Arkham Asylum."

If Vivian had been drinking anything, she would have spit it back out. He had to be kidding.

"Why? That place is creepy as hell."

"Hon, that place _is_ hell."

Silence engulfed the room and the tension was nearly tangible. Next to Salvatore, a boss discreetly tapped his Rolex. It had to be now. Gripping the box with one hand, he took Vivian's with his other. She tried to pull away, but his hold was firm.

"Take it," He placed the tiny box in her hand and closed her fingers around it, "I'll give you two months without rent."

Maroni let go of Vivian's shaking hand and she quickly put it in her pocket. She knew this was wrong. Oh so wrong. She was doing favors for the mob. But did she have a choice? One little trip to Arkham would feed her for four months, giving her enough time to find a new job.

But was it worth it?

"When?"

"Now."

So. No time to think. Time to make a decision.

Vivian looked at Maroni with a grave expression. She really needed the money, but once she did one favor for the mob, they'd come back for more. She'd say no, they'd offer her money that she needed, and she'd reluctantly say yes. It was a vicious cycle.

She glanced around the room at all the faces that stared at her, mouth open. Vivian closed her eyes. Did see even have a choice? If she said no, would Maroni start using threats and blackmail? Better to take the morally low road than end up dead or on the streets, right?

Screaming vicious obscenities on the inside, Vivian finally broke the silence, "I really hate you right now, Maroni."

Salvatore beamed. He had won this argument. She actually believed that he would do something legal that didn't involve anyone getting hurt.

There's a sucker born every minute.

Not able to take any more of Maroni's self-satisfied aura, Vivian turned to a member of the Valtori family, "Who is this going to?"

Valtori glanced at Maroni, who chuckled. Shrugging his shoulders, Valtori looked back to Vivian, "Give it to Alec."

And with that, Vivian turned tail and slammed the doors behind her.

It was darker than before, she had to walk to the center of the Narrows, she had to enter Arkham Asylum in the middle of the night, and she only had very vague information about the box she was carrying.

And she still couldn't suppress the feeling her night was about to get much, much worse.


End file.
